Start New
by beajizz
Summary: "Do you think," the hesitation glazes thick over the looming question, like molasses being added to a bowl of cookie dough by the force of gravity, she continues regardless, "we could start a family?" - Can be read as a sequel to Family, but not entirely necessary.


"Do you think," the hesitation glazes thick over the looming question, like molasses being added to a bowl of cookie dough by the force of gravity, she continues regardless, "we could start a family?"

You don't react. Not immediately, anyway.

You do, however, feel the question physically manifest into something unwelcoming as it drills through one of your ear canals and hits the mush of your brain. A hand instinctively scratches at your scalp to relieve the sting. For a moment, you're whisked away into your vault of memories, one usually locked by mental chains and secret combinations, never to be opened. Though, that can't always be the case.

You've always wanted a kid, a son, but a brother of your own above all else. Back when the war was still fresh, and the loneliness you've grown accustomed to was never as stale as the air you remember suffocate countless mortals around you, there was always a small sliver of hope for another survivor; someone to be there with you, to teach and guide and relate to all the sad little strings that pulled your still-beating heart in ways someone as young as you were should not have experienced yet.

And then he came. _Simon Petrikov_, he stammered. He took care of you, gave you a best friend (other than himself), fed you what little he had, and sheltered you against the cruelty of the very world that crumbled beneath your small feet. More of a father than a brother, Simon was, but a living soul nonetheless. You asked him a similar thing once, if he wanted a son – you remember that night clearly – and he said yes. _Gunter_, he whispered. He told you all about Betty, his princess, and the family they were planning to start. He didn't sleep that night.

You, on the other hand, dreamt about the possibility of Gunter, your fictional brother. _Would he look like Simon? Would he play with Hambo too? Would they get along?_ _Marceline and Gunter, the dynamic duo._ Your smile widened at the chance of another friend; the group was finally growing.

Soon, however, days when Simon lost himself became more frequent, unable to remember the simplest things like your name, or even his own. One day, you woke up alone, the heat of the sun doing little as you remember the last of Simon's frosty aura. For a half-demon, you never felt so cold.

You and Hambo then, wandering aimlessly, still lost in your expectations. You were so naïve; you waited for Simon to come back, stayed awake until the moon shone bright enough to illuminate the valleys of rubble and brown patches of dead grass. Even worse, you waited for Gunter. For so long, you actually believed you wouldn't be alone again.

Her weight shifts against your arm, the warmth of her cheek burning through what feels like the first layer of your cool skin. You're brought back to reality – present reality – where your princess lies beside you, curiosity etched between the creases on her brow. Pink tresses frame her soft face, eyes locked and searching for an answer, or for you to at least tell her she's pushed the boundaries too far, too soon. But the longer you stare back, the more you lose yourself to a different kind of possibility.

"_Do you think we could start a family?"_

You ignore the pang in your heart as your mind treads lightly around that word.

_Family._

The one you never really had, the members absent – one permanently – for a majority of your life; their faces rush to the surface of your thoughts. Your eyes close and you remember the feeling of being alone. The emptiness that was once thought to be a temporary nuisance is now your shadow, darkest during the day. Starting a family is a big deal and you can't risk having history repeat itself; you _want_ to do right, if you're going to do this at all, but _can_ you do right? You aren't exactly a spitting image of your father, but there are months when you can't even take care of yourself, let alone the princess' needs, what more if there's a child involved? There's responsibility there and you know better than anyone that it's not your strongest suit and–

"Marceline." Her whisper rouses you once more and your eyelids struggle to open through the weight of your past.

But once you've composed yourself enough to look into her eyes again, you realize that _this, _this thing Bonnibel proposes, is actually possible. She makes you feel like you can do things, be things, and overcome things you never thought you had the potential for. She makes your shadow disappear and fills the void it leaves behind with tenderness and love. She tangles herself in you to replace the knots that once pulled at your heart, coming undone with the touch of her hand.

A fresh start, with the princess who makes you feel like more of a person than anyone else ever has. Start a family – a _real_ family – and when it's born, son or daughter, you'll be there for them. Maybe even name it Gunter, if she allows it. You'll teach them everything you've learned in your millennium's worth of time and Bonnibel will teach them beyond what you understand. You'll teach them music and the secrets of the night, and she'll teach them science and what it's like to be a responsible ruler. You don't know how it's going to work, but she'll find a way. She always finds a way.

You won't make the same mistake your father did: leave a child to fend for themselves.

You won't make the same mistake Simon did: hurt his princess and let her go.

You won't hurt _your _princess, not again, and you'll love that kid until the day your immortal life ends.

For the first time in a very long time, you aren't alone anymore.

You smile, cupping her hand and bringing it against your mouth, softly kissing the palm.

"Yeah, that sounds nice."


End file.
